>>2194156
>'From a spacer baby?' {Background: Colony Ship Inhabitant)
>'Pampered brat?' (Background: Trade House Clan Member)
>'Nobody?' (Background: Conscripted Orphan)
>'Farmboy?' (Background: Rhysode Local)

>>2194158
>>'From a spacer baby?' {Background: Colony Ship Inhabitant)

lets try this out

>>2194158
>'Pampered brat?' (Background: Trade House Clan Member)

>>2194158
>>'Nobody?' (Background: Conscripted Orphan)

>>2194160
>>2194162
>>2194165
Three way tie. 10 minutes until tiebreaker unless there's a rescue vote.

>>2194158
>'From a spacer baby?' {Background: Colony Ship Inhabitant)

>>2194158
>>2194158
>'From a spacer baby?' {Background: Colony Ship Inhabitant)

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‘From a spacer baby?’

ACQUIRED ATTRIBUTE: Technical Habits
ACQUIRED ATTRIBUTE: Navigation Nut
ACQUIRED ATTRIBUTE: Spacious
ACQUIRED ATTRIBUTE: Tradesman You Are Not
ACQUIRED ATTRIBUTE: Wide, Wide Wanderlust

Ryosuke stares down at you, wearing a smile through his orange-tinted visors. He takes them off, giving you another jolly pat on the back, curiously peering over your shoulder at your posting and tapping on the console. He swipes it to the right, much to your consternation, revealing further details of your posting and the logic behind it.

‘Shows keen interest in technical factors, application and theory, has a grasp of knowledge that’s befitting his background as a member of a Registered Colony Ship Inhabitant,’ Ryosuke reads in a highly-affected voice, draping his arm over your shoulder as he practically presses you to the metallic rim of the console, irritating the others in the crowd with his boisterous movements. ‘Also displays adequate operating thresholds under restricted conditions—as expected. How-ever!’—he says that even louder than the rest—‘is also rather terrible at economical duties and tends to find his focus to go astray more often than not when it comes to long-term projects.’

‘Quit it, Ryosuke.’

You shove Ryosuke away—and onto the crowd that was patiently waiting their turn to use the console. As the glares of annoyance pile up, you let out a sigh and leave the console as the rest of the former students of The Aegis stepped huddled around it. You had a busy day. Tomorrow would be your assignment date … and you hadn’t even picked up your uniform from the—

‘Hey, come on, man, wait up!’

You frown as you turn to your friend—who looked more suited for the part of a drop-out more than a member of The Aegis that had scored in the top one percent in four of his seven classes in his open shirt and sandals. You don’t even know why he was around you right now. You thought that he’d be taking his choice of assignment, considering that he excelled at practically every applicable class that would be able to put him under an apprenticeship or even a junior position in a Squadron or on a Command.

‘Shouldn’t you be looking over who’s drooling over your grades next?’

‘I’ll worry about that later,’ he sighs, ‘nothing but offers of postings here and there. No one wants to take me on a practical basis—a lot of ‘em want to ship me out to some fancy command.’

‘Well, of you’re trying to get a Mech posting, you’re gonna have to get in line with the rest of the jocks,’ you snort, ‘Maybe you can reach one before you’re forty.’

‘And you?’

‘What?’

‘I mean, you came here wanting to be a Mech pilot too … what changed?’

>>2194180
>'Nothing, I just ... I just didn't make the cut. Had to make up for it or I wouldn't have even graduated.'
>'You just get a little bit more realistic with your goals. What're the odds of me making it anyway?'
>'I just lost interest, I guess. Lost the fire. Lost the romance.'
>'I just wanted to serve. If this is the best I can get, so be it.'
>Write-In

>>2194183
>>'I just wanted to serve. If this is the best I can get, so be it.'

>>2194183
>'Nothing, I just ... I just didn't make the cut. Had to make up for it or I wouldn't have even graduated.'

>>2194183
>'I just wanted to serve. If this is the best I can get, so be it.'

>>2194183
>>'Nothing, I just ... I just didn't make the cut. Had to make up for it or I wouldn't have even graduated.
I don't want to force a tie but I just like this choice better

>>2194183
>>'Nothing, I just ... I just didn't make the cut. Had to make up for it or I wouldn't have even graduated.'

File: One Last Consultation Session.png (571 KB, 500x700)

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‘I just wanted to serve,’ you answer flatly, shrugging as you tuck away the sheet of paper into your top pocket. ‘If this is the best I can get … this is what I’ll do. So be it.’

‘That’s the attitude you’re going to bring up with as a member of The Aegis?’

‘Not everyone’s a glory hound like you, bud,’ you chuckle, giving him a friendly pat of your own.

Ryosuke stares at you with what appears to be a scrutinizing gaze. You’re not surprised that he does. Maybe you had ambitions in that direction back as a child, as one of those many, many children that fantasized being at the head of The Starjammers or The Steel Hawks. By the time you’d stepped into the halls, though, another feeling had taken root in place of being a roaring lion at the head of a squadron of Mechs: the grounded pull of reality. It wasn’t that dreams went by just like that—but you’d developed a larger understanding of the scope of what it meant to be part of The Aegis: that more than a privilege, it was a burden and a responsibility; that wars weren’t won with heroes charging at the front with swords drawn and nothing else. It was all about the structure that made it work at the end of the day: no job too demeaning, no post too small. Victory was all of those coming together more than it was one man or woman wearing a flag on their chest and shouting for the charge.

Most times, it was about who had that store full of food leftover from the night before.

‘Oh no,’ you groan, clutching your head, ‘I’m replaying Instructor Flask’s speech in my head.’

Ryosuke barks in laughter, placing his hands on his hips, ‘Yeah, he’ll do that to ya—damn good advice on picking up girls, though. You should try it sometime.’

You stiffen slightly, ‘I don’t think that—’

‘There you are.’

You turn around to see the last person that you wanted to come across on your last day on Rhysode. Flowing blue hair and a piercing, icy gaze, Instructor Fisher was the picture of intimidation. Next to you, Ryosuke went as stiff as you had, probably caught between the impulse to bail on you—not that you wouldn’t be used to it at this point. Instructor Fisher was anything but an easy side-step … and one you really wish was.

‘I believe you were supposed to be in my office at 0700.’

‘It’s,’ you throw a pleading glance at Ryosuke, who doesn’t say a word, ‘been a busy day—for everyone, right?’

‘I suppose it has,’ she remarks, heels clacking as she nears you, ‘but luckily for you, I’ve cleared everything on my schedule to have a chat with my most frequent patient. Unless, of course, you happen to be too busy to have one last consultation session with your Instructor?’

>>2194229
>‘You’re not my instructor anymore.’ (Blow her off)
>‘We’re, uh, actually … we have plans.’ (Get Ryosuke to back you up)
>‘I guess I could …’ (Take up her invitation)
>'Exit, Stage Left!' (RUN AWAY)
>Write-In

>‘I guess I could …’ (Take up her invitation)
im sure she cant be that bad
...can she?

>>2194229
>‘I guess I could …’ (Take up her invitation)
Since she's willing to go as far as to clear her schedule for our sake.

>>2194233
>‘I guess I could …’ (Take up her invitation)

>>2194233
>>‘I guess I could …’ (Take up her invitation)

>>2194233
>>‘I guess I could …’ (Take up her invitation)

>>2194229
>>‘I guess I could …’ (Take up her invitation)

File: You're Okay With Things B(...).png (610 KB, 800x960)

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You weren’t under any obligation to listen to her. Fisher—Instructor Fisher—may have been one of the five people in Rhysode you wouldn’t want to have been locked in a room alongside, but …

She had been there for you for four years. She could have easily transferred you to another counselor or just branded you as a neurotic, asinine excuse of cells by your third, but she’d stuck it out with you and—even with the bulk of her words to you being snide comments and the occasional spiral of a back and forth that came from the both of you being stubborn, contentious lunkheads at the worst of times—had been more of a help to you in getting through the program than almost every other staff member. Fisher may not have been bearable in personality, but she was definitely the one most dedicated to her job at pushing everyone in the direction that they had expected of themselves.

So you could most definitely spare fifteen minutes to have your agreed chat with her before you went on with the rest of your life.

‘I guess I could—no, I don’t have anything on the clock right now,’ you sigh, hoping you didn’t regret this. ‘Of course, Instructor Fisher.’

You throw another glance at Ryosuke, to see if there was anything resembling a protest or a second opinion that he had. As expected, though—as every other former student that had endured her counseling—Ryosuke had nothing to say; he holds up his hands in symbolic surrender, backing away—almost comically—from you and your Counselor for four years as though he was afraid she’d bite his head right off if he made any sudden moves.

‘You do your thing, bud,’ he declares, before rushing into a slight bow towards the Instructor. ‘Have a good one, Instructor!’

‘You too, Murasame,’ the Instructor nods in acknowledgment, ‘and please try not to blow up the women’s bathroom this time? I don’t think a Squadron would be as forgiving as Chancellor Walker.’

He turns beet red at the reminder, ‘I-I’ll do my best, ma’am.’

He scampers away—probably back to his dorm to finish packing up. Exceptional student or no, Ryosuke had always left things to the last minute when it came to getting anything but his books and notes in order. You wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t even rented out a storage unit for his things yet.

Both you and Fisher manage to find a vacant bench, sitting down before the gaggle of your peers—some in tears, some jumping for joy … and some playing with a ball in the middle of it all chanting a battlecry. Funny … you thought it would have died off as the season did.

‘So, this is really what you want to do with your career?’

You furrow your brows as you turn to her, ‘What?’

‘You’re happy just stumbling through the finish line like that?’

>>2195458
>'I didn't come here to be exceptional. I came here to see if I could contribute.' (Direct)
>'Why do I have the feeling we've had this conversation before?' (Personal)
>'No, but, if that's the best I could do, who am I to change it?' (Retrospective)
>'I wouldn't call it a stumble. Stumble implies it wasn't by intention.' (Annoyed)
>'Look, if you're just going to lecture me on whether I'm a fit ...' (Leave)
>Write-In

>>2195458
>Write-In
Of course Id be happier if I could come out of this as some top tier ace, but im not going to complain as long as I can serve.

>>2195471
>>'Why do I have the feeling we've had this conversation before?' (Personal)

>>2195495
Support

>>2195471
>'No, but, if that's the best I could do, who am I to change it?' (Retrospective)
>'Why do I have the feeling we've had this conversation before?' (Personal)
Some combination of these two, in this order. I get the feeling that our MC would think more 'I guess that's the best I could do' than 'I wish I could do better'.

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‘I won’t lie that it would’ve been nice to have come out as some ace like Ryosuke, Emilio or Gerard,’ you start with a sigh, ‘but I’m not going to complain so long as I get to serve—I didn’t come here with being a hero in mind.’

Fisher tips her cap, smirking at you before staring out to the dispersing crowd. A pair of girls glance at the both of you before hurrying on their way—more from Fisher than from you, you hope. Her reputation as a pillar of salty, bitter honesty preceded her. She had never been one to mince words—and to your relief, had never been one to mix anything personal with her professional standing. You don’t know how many times you’d devolved a conversation between the both of you into a contest of remarks because of a suggestion that you’d taken too personal. In your defense, though, she didn’t have a threshold to her words, either, so giving as good as you got was more than an adequate response.

‘The only things anyone ever come in here to do is to be some kind of legend; get The Aegis’s recommendation and head into the private sector and try to make a killing or because they’re stifled by tradition,’ Fisher snorts, ‘and you expect me to believe that you just want to serve? Last thing that I expected for someone with a background as a spacer.’

You frown, wondering if that was a snide jibe or just a direct observation.

‘Just because people don’t like the Empire doesn’t mean that they can’t side-by-side for what it stands for,’ you reply, turning to her and finding her still staring at the dispersing gaggle of students in the plaza. ‘And even if the Colony Fleets don’t care much for the politics and the Emperor, we’re all at least on the table that the Empire keeps people safe and provides the best it can.’

‘Colony Ship inhabitants usually aren’t as patriotic as you are,’ she snickers, turning to you now. ‘Not that I won’t be surprised if you didn’t decide to cash in your chips in 18 months like all the others do, anyway.’

You glare right back at her.

It wasn’t as if she could pull rank with you now that you weren’t under her wing anymore.

‘You know, for a Counselor you really can lay it on a little thicker than most.’

‘I took this job up to make sure that the graduates know what they’re getting into,’ she retorts, raising her hand. ‘I didn’t take it to sugarcoat that—oh, damn it.’

She curses as she grabs her right wrist, letting out a light hiss as she runs her hand over the green glow. Her thumb twitches and her pinkie bent almost painfully, but she looked more annoyed than in agony as she steadied the jerking appendage.

It looked like her prosthetic was acting up, if the stiff movements was anything to go by.

‘I swear, this is the last time I trust Instructor Fisk.’

>>2195741
>‘Give me your hand.’ [TECHNICAL HABITS]
>‘You really should triple-check the patches, Instructor.’ (Remark)
>‘You went to Instructor Fisk, ma'am. Anything that doesn't result in an acid bomb is pretty much a blessing.' (Joke)
>'Aren't you going to cash in for an upgrade? They're free to vets, right?' (Inquisitive)
>'You should get going to the Vet Services and see if you can get anything done. Last thing you want is your arm blowing up again.' (End the conversation)
>Write-In

>>2195741
>>‘Give me your hand.’ [TECHNICAL HABITS]

>>2195747
End the conversation.

>>2195741
>‘Give me your hand.’ [TECHNICAL HABITS]
>‘You went to Instructor Fisk, ma'am. Anything that doesn't result in an acid bomb is pretty much a blessing.' (Joke)
Examine her hand, and fill the space with a joke.

>>2195747
>>‘Give me your hand.’ [TECHNICAL HABITS]

>>2195756
this

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You hold out your palm.

‘Give me your hand.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Give me your hand,’ you repeat your request, which she complies, setting the back of her hand in your open palm. ‘If it’s twitching that badly, it’s probably just unaligned transistor logic… or a reaction mechanism that’s getting the wrong sensory feedback.’

You dive into your pockets, bringing out a cutting pen and turning on the beam. Fisher thins her lips as you bring the blade to palm, cutting through the synthetic skin and dragging it to the base of her wrist. The blade cuts open to reveal the metallic, teal-colored duranium alloy—standard issue for veterans, and no problem for you to work your old routine. You peel the synthetic skin off her palm and jab open a compartment, revealing the circuitry beneath. Sure enough, the v-shape of the circuit’s logic was absent … and to compound it, the two transistor modules were touching the skeletal sheath. A nagging thought tells you that she’d smacked something hard over thirty thousand times or had it run over by a set of wheels on purpose … because the only way to get it bent into this angle be to have the palm open and be the recipient to some external force. Giving the gear module a scrutinizing gaze, you shake your head as you re-align it—to which Fisher winces in a show of brief pain.

‘Sorry,’ you apologize, ‘the synchronization calibration should work now, but I’m going to have to reset your connection.’

Your hand travels down to her forearm—the jerking had stopped, which meant that the reaction mechanism was reset to zero. One thing that you’d always begrudged prosthetic manufacturers was the use of too many extra parts—especially when it came to the military standard. The civilian add-ons were in no way of poor quality, but you felt like the military-issued ones had way too much. You grip her prosthetic tight and cut open the area just under the wrist, peeling the synthetic cover back and flipping the pen and popping out the screwdriver. Popping out the rectangular cover, you peek inside and tap the reset button. The hand immediately goes limp.

‘What d—’

The tell-tale blue glow from the small hole in the opening—along with the brief green glow of the wrist—has your former Instructor raising her hand from your care, turning the wrist and flexing her fingers.

‘Not bad—I can actually feel it again.’

‘Not done yet,’ you comment, holding up your pen and the cover to her manual startup.

She smirks, holding her arm out again for you to work your magic.

‘Thank you,’ she chuckles as you set the cover onto the opening, beginning to screw it back on. ‘You’re good with your hands. How well do you work with legs?’

She smirks as she straightens her left for emphasis.

>>2195951
>'Different circuitry, different OS, same mechanics.' [TECHNICAL HABITS]
>'Not enough to risk a harassment injunction, ma'am.'
>'Instructor, please? Could you just not?'
>'And I think that's my call to leave. Thanks for all your work, Instructor.'
>Write-In

>>2195951
>>'Different circuitry, different OS, same mechanics.' [TECHNICAL HABITS]
I can't resist.

>>2195960
>>'Different circuitry, different OS, same mechanics.' [TECHNICAL HABITS]

>>2195960
>'Different circuitry, different OS, same mechanics.' [TECHNICAL HABITS]
Esdeath pls

>>2195951
Before I leave for lunch, correction on that last line:

She smirks as she straightens her left for emphasis.

TO

You turn your head up to see that her smirk had only grown more mischievous compared to before ... and that her left leg was raised to emphasize the so-called context to her inquiry.

>>2195960
>>'Different circuitry, different OS, same mechanics.' [TECHNICAL HABITS]

>>2195960
'Different circuitry, different OS, same mechanics.' [TECHNICAL HABITS]
give her the repairs

>>2195960
>'Different circuitry, different OS, same mechanics.' [TECHNICAL HABITS]
NERRRRRD.

but accompanied by an appraising look? it's your last day. You're not particularly interested (or are you?), but you've just been hit by a freight train with that news. Surely you're a little curious, happy for a little variety to spice up your dull twilight day, dull twilight introduction to the rest of your life.

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‘Different circuitry, different operating systems and logic,’ you recite, practically from the heart, ‘same mechanics.’

She lifts her arm from its resting place on your palm, briefly appraising it … before quickly swinging both her legs right over and plopping them onto your lap without so much as a warning. You stare at the pair of stockings the aligned her long, long legs, right until an unnatural buzzing sound hits your ears.

‘Compensation units not working properly?’

‘If that’s what you want to call it,’ Fisher replies nonchalantly, taking off her hat and setting it on her stomach as she lays down. ‘If you can do hands you can do legs just fine too, right?’

You let out a sigh.

‘You know, you can just go ask one of the second year gear heads to work on you if you’re trying to weasel yourself out of a maintenance bill,’ you fix her with a flat gaze … before taking off her shoes anyway, revealing the outline of her barely-concealed toes. ‘A lot of ‘em would probably love the idea of working with something that wasn’t from thirty years ago.’

‘Is that a criticism of The Aegis I hear?’

‘The Students’ Union already put in a grievance that the operating module for the endoskeletons is about six years behind,’ you reply, ‘and that the endoskeletons themselves aren’t standard issue. Which is weird, considering you let the ones taking the electives in the final year full access to any and all standard issue stuff from the robotics department.’

‘You have to work your way up from the bottom. The longest-running system on the Baron-class mechs is eighty standard years and it still hasn’t been wholly-replaced. Anyone looking to commandeer a ship or a mech has to have the bare bones of the systems carved into their heads—not all people play their things by ear or on the fly.’

You cut open her heel and pull out a bent piece of metal and frown. There was being uncaring and there was plain negligence. Fisher may have been a hard-ass on the worse of days, but you’d expected her to at least properly adjust the compensation units to suit her weight and stance rather than just take things at factory setting and hoping the systems just kicked their logic loop with the hope that it caught on.

‘I guess it’s just the spacer in me talking, then,’ you sigh, staring at the slightly-bent pin. You absently wonder if you could charge her for this; it wasn’t as if she could pull rank on you anymore. ‘The Aegis really does provide, doesn’t it? Back on the Colony Fleet, you had to make do with what you had. Everything was backwards compatible out there: I think we even had a Mech’s Virtual Guidance Interface in charge of one of our advance guard systems.’

For a while, the only sound is the chatter of students around the plaza.

‘Have you told your family that you’re planning to go full career?’

You pause.

>>2196449
>‘I told you that the Colony wasn’t happy with me. That’s not going to change; not even if I save the Universe.’
>‘They haven’t received my calls for years. I tried, but … guess you just can’t come back from some things.’
>‘The last time I talked to them was when I got off at Rossiu. I don’t want to talk to them.’
>‘I won’t pretend that they were happy with my decision, being a Colony Fleet and all that, but … well, they respected it..’
>‘None of your business.’
> Write-In

>>2196451
>‘I won’t pretend that they were happy with my decision, being a Colony Fleet and all that, but … well, they respected it..’

>>2196451
>‘I won’t pretend that they were happy with my decision, being a Colony Fleet and all that, but … well, they respected it..’

>>2196449
>‘I won’t pretend that they were happy with my decision, being a Colony Fleet and all that, but … well, they respected it..’

>>2196451
>>‘I won’t pretend that they were happy with my decision, being a Colony Fleet and all that, but … well, they respected it..’

inbefore yan childhood friend interrupt

>>2196367
As part of The Aegis, if you can't fix a prosthetic on the fly, you're considered a moron.

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Your family.

Now there was something that hadn’t crossed your mind for some time. You’d been practically swamped with your final year and trying to make the grade, that you’d barely kept in contact with them. You hadn’t left the ship on terms that you would have called amicable—seeing as Colony Fleets were essentially just dwellers of Empire Space rather than properly-recognized citizens of it. You were probably one of—at best—a dozen and a half Spacers in Rhysode’s Academy by the time you’d arrived; while the Empire and the Colony Fleets weren’t quite at each others’ throats, the Colony Fleets were loath to turn to anything resembling a hand from the Empire. Sovereignty had always been a huge issue for the Colony Fleets, who practically turned up their noses at having any sort of authority heaped upon them. Some of the older folks mused that the only thing that the Fleet Administrators bared more teeth at were Fleet Administrators from other Colony Fleets. There was a sort of disconnect between the Colony Fleet priorities and the concerns of the Empire, but they’d rarely come to anything more than tax disputes.

When you’d announced your intent to join an Academy, however, you’d practically been treated as an accessory to treason. The Fleet Administrators, ironically, were majorly understanding—the whole principle of being part of the Colony Fleet was to choose the base of your own freedoms after all … and to be able to choose your own way in life. That was the very foundation of being an inhabitant: the choice.

Your family, of course, had been reluctant. Some of your uncles and aunts had even been worried that you’d somehow been brainwashed by Imperial propaganda. However, after many a week of argument—and trying to convince your more elderly relatives that you weren’t just trying to avoid a year in the Habitat Convoy, you were able to take a drop-off at Rossiu Port and to wait for the finalization of your application, which was, weirdly enough, approved within the standard week rather than the waiting list of three months.

To this day, you honestly hoped it wasn’t to fill up a quota and the application room was just filled with a class that mediocre, but … however it had happened, you were glad that you were accepted.

Even if you did have to shell out extra coins to keep up with the syllabus.

‘I won’t pretend that they were happy with my decision, you know, being from a Colony Fleet,’ you admit, ‘but they respected my decision enough to not jettison me out one of the dumps.’

You furrow your brows as you stick the pin back into her heel … which whirs for a while, before going thankfully silent.

‘You’re done.’

She raises her foot … and daintily taps your chin with her toe, slowly directing your head towards hers.

‘Would you be available tonight?’

>>2196520
>'I have plans with Ryosuke and the others, actually.'
>'I do, but if you, um, have something important, I suppose I could cancel?'
>'Sorry, but I do. You're gonna have to find some other idiot to do your bidding, Instructor.'
>'I'm not a teenager, you know. I know when I'm being led on and when a girl's genuinely interested.'
>Write-In

>>2196521
>'I do, but if you, um, have something important, I suppose I could cancel?'

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>>2196521
>>'I do, but if you, um, have something important, I suppose I could cancel?'

>>2196521
>Write-In
>'...Why do you ask?'

>>2196536
This one

>>2196520
>'I do, but if you, um, have something important, I suppose I could cancel?'

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You consider it for a moment.

You had plans.

It was your last day in Rhysode as a member of The Academy, and you’d already had plans with your friends. It’d be a long time before you’d end up crossing paths again, if you ever did. Whether you advanced or not, warping to another side of the galaxy wasn’t something that you were quite sure your superiors would approve of for leave—which was why tonight was a bit of a special occasion. Still, you felt more than guilty for blowing off Instructor Fisher—and if she wanted to see you, teasing as it was, you had no doubt that it would be something relevant rather than personal. As much as a hard-ass she could be, Fisher was practical if a little bit more devious than the usual brand of Counselor. You’d known her for four years, and when you weren’t hitting the books, getting some extra credit working in the tech bay or hanging out with your friends, she was at least there with some useful—and brutally honest—words of advice. While she wasn’t personable to be around—and undesirable to have as anything but a counter-point for the sake of having one—you had to, at least reluctantly, admit that when she had something to say, more often than not, she had the fat cut out.

So if she wanted to see you, it must have been something that was relevant to your current position—and you could at least take solace in the fact that she was no longer your direct superior in the course of things. You’d be able to just turn and walk in the other direction if it didn’t go to your liking … or if she went into another tangent as to why you were the biggest underperformer in your class, which you feared would have been echoing in your ears by now if you’d decided to see her in the morning.

‘I do have some plans,’ you admit, pulling her toes away from your cheek, ‘but if it’s that important, then … well, I guess I could cancel or take a rain-check on it.’

She snorts, closing her eyes and wearing a half-smile before daintily picking up her shoes with her toes and swinging herself back into a properly-seated position.

‘Well, if you do have time,’ she nods, straightening her jacket and getting to her feet, ‘you know where my unit is.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m not holding my breath, though,’ Fisher chuckles, raising a hand and turning her back to you, ‘but if you decide to come over, well—I’ll whip up some tea or something for you.’

She casually walks off, leaving you alone on the bench.

You had some time before you had to go meet up with your friends … if you chose to, anyway.

You wish that your Dorm Leader wasn't such a hard-ass. You could really use your Comm Unit right about now.

>Go to the Instructors’ Lounge
>Go to your Dormitory
>Go to the Storage Unit
>Go to the Gardens
>Go to the Simulation Unit
>Write-In

>>2196592
You can ask me where else you could go. These are just the bare-bones.

>>2196592
>Go to your Dormitory

>>2196592
>Go to your Dormitory

>>2196592
>Go to the Simulation Unit

>>2196592
>Go to the simulation unit.

>>2196592
>Go to your Dormitory

>>2196592
>Go to the Gardens
get some air, and look plants
those must be rare at the colony fleet

>>2196592
>>Go to the Simulation Unit

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The Simulation Units were right on the other side of the Academy, so you had practically march right across Instructor Fisk’s latest attempt to draw recruits in to take a specialization under his class. You manage to slip a few warnings to your underclassmen, however, to at least be prepared to invest heavily in acid-resistant gel and some techie-level gear before they even entered the same classroom as the man. Not that Fisk was intentionally malicious, of course, but his way of encouraging creativity didn’t quite resonate with the safety precautions that The Aegis stressed. There were, after all, no uses for dead soldiers—and even if The Aegis wasn’t afraid to put its batches through the same grinder as the old hands, you didn’t see them being happy with Fisk if he ever did end up wasting more than just a hall in collateral damage.

From what you had heard, he’d been kicked off a project from The Aegis under some really bad terms—but that was what the upperclassmen had told you … and as a Spacer, you’d been more than wary of a tall tale in the works. A lot of what Fisk did was shrouded in mystery, but the Iron Hammer that was displayed proudly in his office told you there was probably some truth to it … even if you did have a hard time imagining a balding engineering genius doing anything significant out on the field.

As the doors hiss open, you find yourself sighing with the sound of screaming underclassmen right behind you.

The Med Bay should really have a ward dedicated to him by now.

You enter the building, giving a quick wave to the MPs running patrol. Not a lot of people were here right now—back during your time off, a lot of your fellow seniors would be hogging the machines and running simulations for some last minute practical revision. Fisher hadn’t been wrong that a lot of the people attending the Academy programs had envisioned their names being put in decals on a mech’s cockpit. You hadn’t—not that you hadn’t envisioned it once or twice.

As you walk through the halls to SIMULATION GROUP 01, you notice two of your fellow graduates walking out, snickering and snarling as they stamped from the hall that housed the simulation units.

‘Who the Hell does that Reinweld think he is?’

As the name hits, you let out a sigh and a chuckle and make your way to the Hall, where, sure enough, your friend Emilio Reinweld, stood beside the open hatch of a Simulation Unit, staring at his Comm-Unit.

‘Emilio?’

He doesn’t notice you calling his name, busy mumbling to himself as he kept staring at the screen.

>Write-In

>>2198331
See if you can look into his simulation program.

>>2198331
>walk over and shake him

>>2198414
This

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You walk right up to Emilio, placing a hand on his shoulder.

‘Emilio?’

He turns his head to you, getting to his feet and sighing heavily.

‘Sorry—how long were you standing there?’

‘Just got here, actually,’ you reply, looking around. ‘You know, at this rate, you might as well just live in here.’

Emilio doesn’t answer, putting his Comm Unit away. He really should return that soon or he wouldn’t be eligible for a return on his deposit.

The Simulation Group was like it was on any other Academy. Sixteen pods with standard simulated controls for Hellion-Type Mechs. It was easily the most popular building in the Academy. Most of the time, the students had to make tuition scheduling weeks in advance for a mere three hours of simulation-running. The only time there hadn’t been need to put your name—or your cluster’s assignment—into the data for a session was when you were in your last two months into fourth year. You’d merely had to walk in and show that you were one and the guards would let you in without any hassle. Considering the final examination, you needed all the extra tuition you could get … which was where the specialists swooped in like hungry vultures. You’d burnt through your pockets for that extra tutoring to push you over the hump—and much to your chagrin, you were the only one who needed it for more than two subjects.

‘I’m just trying to get some hours clocked in,’ he sighs, briefly leaning into the pod and turning a knob before ducking back out. ‘It’s just too bad that the only thing they let us simulate are Hellions and Stormriders.’

You shrug, not quite knowing how to answer, before turning around and giving the room a once over.

It was large. About half the size of a playing field with wires, consoles, a variety of apparatus for simulation runs, a holographic display and control module smack dab in the middle and a large screen opposite to a viewing box on an upper floor. In all your years, it was rare to see it so … barren. Graduation was always a big deal in Rhysode. The city would open up and it would turn from a bunch of young men and women glaring holes into books and pads to a party. Most of the former students—and the new ones acclimatizing themselves to their new world—were probably taking shuttles to the city by now or sorting their dorms out.

‘They assigned me to a post in Max-Sigma,’ Emilio reveals, ‘I’ll be in reserve until they can get more mechs up.’

You let out a small, impressed whistle.

‘Fast track, huh?’

‘I guess.’

Silence reigns between the both of you for a while, right before he drops himself into the seat, his legs sticking out.

‘What did you do during The Toph-Lathu Scenario?’

‘You know I screwed it up,’ you grimace, leaning against the pod. ‘Barely made it as is.’

‘Please.’

You frown, trying to remember the details.

>>2198823
>'I screwed my priorities up. I decided that the city needed help more than the enemy needed to be driven back.'
>'I was a glory hound. Didn't play it safe and ended up getting overwhelmed.'
>'Underestimated the enemy. Tried for a surgical strike that turned out to be a bad gamble.'
>'Prioritized the Asset. Wiped out the whole team getting it out of the conflict area.'

>>2198850
>'I screwed my priorities up. I decided that the city needed help more than the enemy needed to be driven back.'

>>2198850
>>2198823
>Underestimated the enemy. Tried for a surgical strike that turned out to be a bad gamble.'

>>2198850
>>'Underestimated the enemy. Tried for a surgical strike that turned out to be a bad gamble.'

>>2198850
>'Prioritized the Asset. Wiped out the whole team getting it out of the conflict area.'

>>2198850
>'I screwed my priorities up. I decided that the city needed help more than the enemy needed to be driven back.'

>>2198850
>'I screwed my priorities up. I decided that the city needed help more than the enemy needed to be driven back.'

Also bewbs

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You’d barely passed your Operator finals thanks to that scenario.

The Toph-Lathu Scenario was the harshest on you. Almost a hundred years in running operation across a varied number of pods and programs and your class had only seven people who achieved anything above a passing grade. You’d read about it and anticipated it, but being thrust into a situation where you had to make a flurry of strategic decision in the space of five minutes and countering a planetfall being in charge of a restricted Squadron AI was insane. Being low on fuel, low on options and basically nothing but the guns on your back and a Capital City—you had to make and synchronize your plans to achieve the objective: to buy enough time for an Asset to re-activate a ground-level Warp Engine for transport out of enemy hands. The task simple enough—as far as you were concerned, it was just another last stand.

Then the emergency hail came in.

It’s hard to tune out. Your mind tells you that it’s not real—that you just had to stick to what you were told to do and keep the Squadron together. Then your Lieutenant preaches in and tells you to tune it out. That it would be impossible to provide support for both the Warp Engine and the Asset. The city had to burn—it had to be left to ruins in order for you to succeed. You’d ignored the calls for the first thirty seconds … and the Asset had promised you commendations and grave markers that would stand the test of time. You would be a Hero.

Then the hail came in again.

Two Squadrons of enemy mechs targeting the civilian port. Three out of your league, two you could scrap with and a bunch of support units that would swarm you the moment you gave them a chance to.

You flipped the switch and went on to try and be a hero.

You took down three mechs and helped two ships get into orbit and out of the planetfall. Your simulation ended in flames to the screams of your Squadron, the curses of the Asset and the city purged. You’d ended up with the lowest possible score. Instructor Darton, the meanest man in The Aegis didn’t even glance at you as he wrote up your grade. It was the final nail in the coffin to whatever dreams you had to being a pilot.

Gross incompetence didn’t look good in any resume—especially one coming from a controlled scenario.

‘I screwed my priorities up,’ you sigh, placing your hands in your pockets. ‘I decided the city needed more help than the enemy needed to be driven back.’

‘You’re a good old Knight In Shining Armor, aren’t you?’

COMMAND STYLE ACQUIRED: PROTECTOR

‘I guess.’

‘You do know that the city’s just a bonus score? So why’d you do it? A lot of people just ignore and stick to it—get the pass and get the grade.’

>>2199075
>'I guess I just couldn't.'
>'I know, I know. All I needed to do was just stand down and make sure the Asset didn't get blown up before the Warp Engine got activated. I was just stupid enough to take it too seriously.'
>'I just thought I could get the extra points and be the first guy to get full marks, I guess. Don't ask me how my brain works.'
>Write-In

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>>2199075
>2199080
>'I guess I just couldn't.'

>>2199080
>'I guess I just couldn't.'

>>2199080
>>'I know, I know. All I needed to do was just stand down and make sure the Asset didn't get blown up before the Warp Engine got activated. I was just stupid enough to take it too seriously.'

>>2199080
>'I guess I just couldn't.'

>>2199080
>'I guess I just couldn't.'

>>2199080
>'I know, I know. All I needed to do was just stand down and make sure the Asset didn't get blown up before the Warp Engine got activated. I was just stupid enough to take it too seriously.'

>>2199075
>>'I know, I know. All I needed to do was just stand down and make sure the Asset didn't get blown up before the Warp Engine got activated. I was just stupid enough to take it too seriously.'

>>2199080
>>'I guess I just couldn't.'

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You think about it for a while.

There was no denying that you had been an utter moron in thinking that you’d be able to fulfill all your objectives without so much as a hitch. Every other simulation had run a sort of linear response with a limit on what you could and couldn’t do. The Toph-Lathu Scenario had given you a small window of time to manage a crisis situation where the objectives were right on the spot. Which, in hindsight, did make sense as the sum part of what you learned … but the only thing that you’d pretty much picked out from that was that there was no way to advance without sacrifice; which didn’t make sense considering the only way to even get a grade that was above the average was to pick off one or two Mechs while holding the line. Emilio had taken down seven with his Squadron before he bit the dust and he was the second highest grade.

So why had you, with full knowledge or considerable knowledge of the passing requirement of the scenario, chosen to defend the city instead of just holding the line to make sure the Asset got off-world with the activation of the Warp Engine?

‘I guess I just couldn’t,’ you finally answer.

‘You passed—bottom of the grade, but you made it out just fine,’ Emilio gives a slight grin. ‘Good thing you scored high enough on the others, huh?’

‘Still find it annoying that the scenario’s weighed so heavily on our Operator exam,’ you scowl, letting out a sigh. ‘I mean, looking at it from the tally, you’d think that there’d at least be an achievable grade for the outstanding, but … what? You got the second highest grade … and you picked off a squadron and change off.’

‘On record, there hasn’t been anyone who’s broken Grade 3. Decades of this test and the only thing anyone’s got from it is that the city being kept safe from attack is a bonus and the passing grade is to make sure the Warp Engine activates and the Asset escapes the planetfall.’

‘Maybe it’s just one of those tests to prove just how loyal we are,’ you shrug, peering into the pod. ‘You know, if we’re willing to die for the objective and all that.’

‘It is an exam to apply what we’ve gathered,’ he nods, albeit a little tentatively, ‘but if it’s about fulfilling objectives at cost, then there wouldn’t be a point applying it in a scenario where the only way to fail would be to blatantly ignore the perimeters. We’re given a pathway to fulfill an objective and acquire our grade, but there isn’t one here outside of the bonuses … and even those barely bump us up to an upper Grade 4.’

‘I’m just glad Commander Wray didn’t yell at me after the test,’ you sigh in relief. ‘Probably the first time I’ve stepped out of a pod without him pointing out frame-by-frame where I’d screwed up.’

‘That’s ironic.’

‘Hm?’

‘First time he told me he expected better of me.’

>>2199527
>'The Mighty Reinweld finally getting some negative feedback. I am impressed.' (Tease)
>'Who knows what Wray's thinking anyway?' (Dismissive)
>'It was bound to happen sooner or later. Everyone gets that lashing. Be thankful you only got two words.' (Accepting)
>'In any case, whatever that test is about, chances are it probably did its job well enough to have victims older than our grandfathers.' (Casual)
>'Let's change the subject. We're both part of The Aegis now. One measly test doesn't change that.'
>Write-In

>>2199530
>>'It was bound to happen sooner or later. Everyone gets that lashing. Be thankful you only got two words.' (Accepting)

>>2199530
>'Who knows what Wray's thinking anyway?' (Dismissive)

>>2199527
>'The Mighty Reinweld finally getting some negative feedback. I am impressed.' (Tease)

Rolled 3 (1d3)

>>2199531
>>2199532
>>2199534
Let's see where fate takes you.

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‘The Mighty Reinweld finally getting some negative feedback. I am impressed.’

Emilio twitches at your playful tone. It always got to him. Emilio was as reserved as they made them—and his dedication to his craft made him almost unapproachable by his peers … and once upon a time, that included you. Emilio had come from a Trader House who had sent a child of theirs every generation—and to make the rank of a distinguished serviceman, even if they didn’t sniff the inside of a Hellion-type’s cockpit. You only got the bare bones of it, as Emilio was very reluctant to talk about his House’s—his family’s—situation, but from what you understood, he’d been put into the position in order to further the prestige of his House. Something that he had, time and time again, shown to be less than enthusiastic. He was cerebral and practical … which made his sensitivity to the topic, running contrary to his usual demeanor, all the more appealing to use as a tunnel for the occasional bout of friendly banter.

‘I never said I was infallible.’

‘You never said that you weren’t, either,’ you laugh lightly, placing your hands behind your head as you slide your back down the shell of the pod and into a slight crouch. ‘Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later I guess—Commander Wray’s a crazy perfectionist … and you were probably one of the only three people in the whole Academy who could keep up with him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that he was the Emperor’s wife or something.’

‘Spoken like a man of the Colony Fleet.’

You grimace. You’d deserved that.

‘Just because I wasn’t born on an Imperial world doesn’t make me blind to borderline fanaticism,’ you counter, although it’s more for the sake of argument than it is to defend your stance, ‘but it’d be unfair to call Commander Wray out on that. That guy’s built a standard that for everyone—and it’s nothing but his own.’

A slight whine hits your ears before dying off. Emilio must have been adjusting something inside the pod.

‘If you’re looking for a flexible standard, you’re in the wrong line of work.’

‘Yeah, but it’s not as if we’re going to actually have to defend a city from planetfall with … what? Five measley Hellion-type mechs? Warning system, orbital interceptors, you name it—if it ever does happen, it’s never going to be that heavy unless it’s on a Border World or something like that. What’s anything resembling an asset going to be on a Border World for? A vacation?’

‘You’re implying eventualities are impossible,’ Emilio counters right back. ‘Weren’t you the one who said that improvisation was a virtue built from scarcity and desperation?’

>‘I did.’ (Defeated)
>‘Yeah, but … come on. Test aside, a fleet would be obliterated just entering a defensive net.’ (Argue)
>‘Can we move on to something lighter?’ (Deflect)
>Write-In

>>2199615
>‘I did.’ (Defeated)

>>2199615

>‘I did.’ (Defeated)
Our friends are too competent for us.

>>2199615
>‘Yeah, but … come on. Test aside, a fleet would be obliterated just entering a defensive net.’ (Argue)

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‘I did,’ you concede, defeated. ‘Although, I can’t help but wonder why you’d commit anything I have to say to memory.’

Emilio leans out of the pod, wearing a small smirk and responding, ‘I don’t care where wisdom comes from, so long as it’s applicable. In your case, there’s nothing wrong with being prepared to play things by the ear … like needing a laser-cutter and having to make do with a vibro-chain.’

You frown, wondering just how much of your chatter Emilio did pick up by sheer osmosis. Maybe that’s what made that gap between the normal the exceptional the sheer passivity of the information that they absorbed. You wouldn’t say that you weren’t ever not envious of Emilio—or Ryosuke, for that matter—but you hadn’t really developed a consistent taste of it to wholly despise him because of it. People were built differently, they needed different things. You’d chosen to come here out of a sense of responsibility and to contribute to the continued well-being of the Empire and your home. Emilio had come here to carry out his responsibility to his Trade House—his family. Not that you wouldn’t have liked to have his good looks to get that occasional giggle of admiration from passing female underclassmen.

‘Yeah, well,’ you sigh, ‘when you actually have to live it, it becomes routine more than idiom.’

‘So I’ve heard.’

You absently nod, pinching the bridge of your nose.

‘Have you read the news stream today?’

‘Why? Did one of the Emperor’s wives have a kid or something?’

‘That was last weekend,’ Emilio replies nonchalantly, before continuing, ‘but I’m talking about the Jenner Limitations. Aramis just signed it today.’

‘Already? That was quick.’

‘It was either that or further escalation,’ he pauses, taking out his Comm Unit and switching on the holographic display, ‘and I think that neither the Emperor or the League want to see it get any worse than it did on Kaibara. Brokering a deal for transparency and gradual reduction of trained weaponry on one another’s the way to go. All-out war would be stupid at this point.’

‘Kaibara,’ you furrow your brows, ‘hard to imagine all the news was talking about was us going straight into war for that.’

‘The press will always be the press,’ Emilio snorts as he works several controls on the pod. ‘Anything for attention.’

‘See? This is where being a spacer’s a boon To me, it’s nonsense by default and bathroom material at all other times.’

‘I’ll remember that,’ he sighs. ‘Right now, though, I’m just glad the whole damn thing’s been resolved. Last thing anyone wants is inter-world warfare … or worse, all-out war.’

>>2199709
>'Wouldn't your House be happier if it did escalate?' (Personal)
>'What's on the Jenner Limitations anyway?' (Inquire)
>'What led to the Skirmish on Kaibara anyway? Weren't the Jenner Limitations in discussion before it even happened?' (Inquire)
>'On to lighter topics ...' (Deflect)
>Write-In

>>2199709
>'What's on the Jenner Limitations anyway?' (Inquire)
why smell like full on corp funded warfare was just dodged

>>2199713
>'What led to the Skirmish on Kaibara anyway? Weren't the Jenner Limitations in discussion before it even happened?' (Inquire)

>>2199713
>'What's on the Jenner Limitations anyway?' (Inquire)
>'Wouldn't your House be happier if it did escalate?' (Personal)

>>2199713
>>'What's on the Jenner Limitations anyway?' (Inquire)

>>2199713
>>'What led to the Skirmish on Kaibara anyway? Weren't the Jenner Limitations in discussion before it even happened?' (Inquire)

>>2199727
this

>>2199718
"Dodged"

t. First Rule of Escalation

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‘What’s on the Jenner Limitations anyway?’

‘You’re asking me like I’m some sort of reference point,’ Emilio frowns, peering down at you with a scrutinizing gaze.

‘To be fair, you’re probably the only guy that I know who actually consistently keeps up with this,’ you reply with a shrug. ‘All I know about it was that it was some kind of disarmament edict by some Republic politician.’

And just like that, you set him off.

‘It’s not a disarmament edict,’ he immediately replies, almost growling as he steps right out of the pod. ‘The Jenner Limitations are an agreement to decelerate a hypothetical arms race between the Republic and the Empire. The bare bones of it were written up some fifty years before, but when biological and sub-orbital warfare became the standard, it had to be revised so that the tech covered the bases of anything that would and could occur from that point on.’

Revision? For what? Plasma weaponry?

‘Things like what? Satellite cannons and stuff?’

‘Cloud Strikes don’t fall under standard weaponry, for one,’ he sighs, placing his hands in his pockets and rolling his shoulders, ‘and the Limitations only really covered conduct within free space. You know enough about what the January Incident for me to skim over the hammer that took to the conduct of war.’

That you did.

‘Is that planet even habitable anymore?’

‘Again,’ he stares at you, ‘do I look like your personal encyclopedia?’

‘It’s give and take,’ you chuckle, ‘you give me odd trivia and I share my hot chocolate supply with you.’

He rolls his eyes in response.

‘Anyway, the Limitations were brought up by the Republic again—Senator Winstrom, I think, spear-headed the push again. He didn’t want to see Aramis and the Empire break down into war again, which was a big step, considering they were the ones who were more prepared at the time,’ his shoulders slump further as he steps away from the open door of the pod and rests on a box across from you. ‘The Emperor was skeptical, of course, but … well, Prince Horun and Princess Urnae pushed for the Grand Hall to at least reconsider and revisit the Limitations to make sure the January Incident was an isolated one.’

‘So it basically it’s …’

‘It’s a charter to make sure that we don’t go too out of hand with development,’ he finishes, raising his hand and wobbling it slightly for emphasis. ‘The Emperor’s already poised to make the next three Hyron-Class Defensors the last for quite some time. The Grand Hall, though, well, they’re a little split on it, but the majority are of the mind that they’d rather have a galaxy to govern than ashes to scatter.’

A slight rumble of laughter shakes your throat.

‘Poetic.’

>>2201122
>'Wouldn't your House be happier if it did escalate?' (Personal)
>'What led to the Skirmish on Kaibara anyway? Weren't the Jenner Limitations in discussion before it even happened?' (Inquire)
>'On to lighter topics ...' (Deflect)
>'I better get going. Sorry for interrupting ... whatever you were doing.'
>Write-In

>>2201134
>>'What led to the Skirmish on Kaibara anyway? Weren't the Jenner Limitations in discussion before it even happened?' (Inquire)

>>2201134
Wouldn't your house be happier if it escalated?

>>2201134
>'What led to the Skirmish on Kaibara anyway? Weren't the Jenner Limitations in discussion before it even happened?' (Inquire)

>>2201134
>'What led to the Skirmish on Kaibara anyway? Weren't the Jenner Limitations in discussion before it even happened?' (Inquir

>>2201134
>'What led to the Skirmish on Kaibara anyway? Weren't the Jenner Limitations in discussion before it even happened?' (Inquire)

>>2201134
>'What led to the Skirmish on Kaibara anyway? Weren't the Jenner Limitations in discussion before it even happened?' (Inquire)

>>2201134

>'I better get going. Sorry for interrupting ... whatever you were doing.'

My interwebs is finally stable. Session in about 45 minutes.

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‘What led to the Skirmish on Kaibara anyway? If the Jenner Limitations were in discussion before, how did it, you know, happen anyway?’

Emilio fixes you with an unimpressed stare, his patience barely held in check.

‘You really need to keep up with the news.’

You only shrug in return.

‘Spacer, remember? You gotta—’

‘I have to sprinkle the artie on your on your cereal if I ever expect you to swallow,’ he finishes with a sigh, leaning his head back and glancing at the ceiling. ‘I know, I know.’

There’s a small sliver of embarrassment that overtakes you. As a Spacer, Imperial affairs were generally … uninteresting to you; or at least, they were, once upon a time, besides the feed of entertainment that you had back in your quarters in the Colony Fleet. The Colony Fleet had been generally wary of anything resembling the politics of the Emperor and his vassals; the only thing that anyone ever consistently kept up with up there was the price of certain rare metals and re-sell prices. It was all that anyone in your family—that was sufficiently of age—ever talked about if they ever did; Imperial retreats were practically festivals once the Administrator announced them. The frenzy was palpable. On a Colony Fleet, anything that involved the Emperor or general Imperial movement devolved to a drunken brawl whenever someone gave even a sliver of credit … which, actually, was usually started with one of your uncles in the section of the ship that you presided in.

‘You at least know that there were deaths involved, right?’

Of course you did.

You doubt that someone would rain death on Kaibara over anything less.

‘Yeah, two ships blew up, didn’t they? The Independence and The Bulwark of Callorn?

‘Yeah,’ he confirmed, nodding. ‘Kaibara was supposed to be the bastion of Imperial and Republic co-operation. The Jenner Limitations were brought up by Senator Winstrom. Prince Horun and Princess Urnae were there to help oversee it … and then, well, we don’t know what else happened other than both ship’s Warp Engines reaching an unstable cascade. A lot of conspiracy there … and a lot of pointed fingers. The Republic and The Empire didn’t take too kindly to that; The Republic was the one who took it the worse of the two. They mobilized almost immediately, which, you know, brought up more conspiracy, as if they had expected it to go wrong, and …’

He pinched his brow.

‘The Emperor refused, but … he also understood that all-out war was the last thing that anyone would want. Both sides did. So Kaibara was all that would be at stake. The Emperor brought the Jenner Limitations into play again two months in, and, well … we are where we’re at now.’

>>2207698
>'You do know that eighty-nine system failsafes have to go down for a single Warp Engine to even hold up that level of catastrophic failure.' [TECHNICAL HABITS]
>'How much of it do you think is conspiracy?' (Inquire)
>'That's pretty big of the Emperor, considering he lost two of his children. I don't know how I'd react, personally.' (Personal)
>'I'm just thankful both sides were sane enough to keep it that contained.' (Relief)
>'How'd your House take the news?'
>'Yeah, let's ... change the topic.'
>'I should go.'
>Write-In

>>2207736
>>'You do know that eighty-nine system failsafes have to go down for a single Warp Engine to even hold up that level of catastrophic failure.' [TECHNICAL HABITS]
TECH NERD GO

>>2207736
>'You do know that eighty-nine system failsafes have to go down for a single Warp Engine to even hold up that level of catastrophic failure.' [TECHNICAL HABITS]

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‘You do know that eighty-nine system failsafes have to go down for a single Warp Engine to even hold up that level of catastrophic failure,’ you state matter-of-factly, ‘so I don’t think the theory of conspiracy would be far-fetched.’

[TECHNICAL HABITS] has reached LEVEL 2

‘Maybe,’ he nods quietly, ‘but looking at it externally, no side would benefit for all three of them to die—if we’re going to talk about the outrage from it on that side, The Emperor’s been the bigger man and handled the rest of the negotiations himself. If there was anything that was hoped to be achieved by The Emperor, even in the event of conspiracy, then he wouldn’t call for an end to it this quickly. Neither would The Senate be willing to re-enter negotiations on the Limitations if they were in on it themselves.’

‘I’m not talking about the politics around it,’ you frown. ‘I’m just pointing out that a Warp Engine of the standard make has eighty-nine failsafes installed into it by default. A ship holding two Imperial heirs and another one holding a Senator would make for at least two-hundred failsafes. Warp initiation’s dangerous enough on a standard ship drive, for all eighty-nine to fail at once and not even a single soul to be aware of it’s more improbable than two inhabited worlds of the Empire colliding. That’s not even considering the external safety mechanisms that anything above a Millennium-Class Imperial Transport would more than definitely have. It’s why a lot of Colony Fleets have them as Capital Ships.’

‘Millennium-Class?’

‘Well,’ you clear your throat, ‘they’ve changed the standard transport to the Cinder-Class now, but, well, the Millennium-Class used to be the lead ships and preferred transports of the Imperial Family and the Vassals. They can hold their own in a fight, have powerful reserves … you get the idea. These ships were made to cater for the safety of the asset that they housed. They’re not a Battlecruiser by any stretch, but they’re more than adequate for the any VIPs to get around in. They were phased out just before I was born, but if the Cinder-Class is considered an upgrade to the Millennium-Class enough for the Emperor and his wives and kids to put them to hand over to a bunch of Colony Fleets, you wouldn’t expect to have them to have anything less than the top safety protocols for the Warp Engine. As someone who’s seen an Administrator run a failsafe test, I’ve seen it take at least four days for the whole testing run to be done on routine. Can you imagine how long it would take for it to be disabled program-by-program? Mechanism by mechanism? Without anyone noticing?’

Emilio stares at you blankly.

‘How’d you get a Grade Five on Systems, you nerd?’

‘I bleeped over Weaponry Attribution.’

>>2208304
>'How'd your House take the news?'
>'Yeah, let's ... change the topic.'
>'I should go.'
>Write-In

>>2208319
>>'How'd your House take the news?'

>>2208319
>'How'd your House take the news?'

>>2208319
>>'How'd your House take the news?'

File: Here's Hoping.jpg (7 KB, 225x225)

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‘How’d your House take the news?’

He doesn’t answer, thinning his lips and staring up at the monitor. Emilio had a habit of not talking about his House much unless it was about his siblings or his father. The both you had a sort of understanding over that post. The both of you had expectations put upon you, but had felt reluctant to fulfill them—but where you had decided to follow your own steps (albeit with much external resistance and reluctance from your family and friends), Emilio had … well, Emilio felt inclined towards his responsibilities, even if he disagreed with the reason for their alignment. He’d always been the most methodical of your friends, always the first with the most pragmatic and direct approach, with no agenda beside his desire to see an objective achieved … but that made you wonder just how much did Emilio really did agree for the reasons he had been sent here.

Emilio was a man of duty and honor—even if you did feel corny saying it. He was also one of the best pilots you’d ever seen. Practically the direct opposite of how Ryosuke took to the control scheme of a mech.

You’re still not quite sure how he could have done so badly that you’d been given a grade equal to his, but you’d take every victory you could get at this point.

‘As well as you’d expect,’ he finally answers. ‘A bunch of canceled contracts and new negotiations and none of them that they’re happy about.’

‘You sound a little chipper from your family losing out on some business opportunities.’

He pauses, before admitting, ‘Maybe a little … maybe I shouldn’t be. Still, I don’t hear from them aside from the occasional congratulations, and they haven’t said anything on the topic of my graduation and posting yet. Hopefully, they’ll take the same approach to my career.’

You don’t reply.

Emilio was friendly enough, but every time the topic strayed to his family, the Trade House, he’d immediately drop into a mood that you’d really rather not instigate further. Far from being reluctant to hear his problems, Emilio had … his issues. Not that you hadn’t, of course. The occasional mail or feed from your family had come with an offer to go back to a Habitat post or serve as a secretary to one of the Captains, which you’d always declined with a roll of your eyes. The last one had been a standard week and a half ago. With Emilio, though … he’d kept his problems to himself for the most part, and from what you’d heard he at least had the luxury of his expectations and his family’s—if it was right to refer it by that mark—aligning nicely enough for him to pursue a career with The Aegis.

‘Here’s hoping, right?’ you finally say, offering him a weak, but supportive, smile.

He gives one in return.

>>2208642
>'I should go.'
>'Anything else on your mind?' (Try to change the topic)
>Write-In

>>2208646
>>'Anything else on your mind?' (Try to change the topic)

>>2208642
>'Anything else on your mind?' (Try to change the topic)
It's poor form to leave him stewing in unhappy thoughts as we part ways.

>>2208642
I should go.

>>2208646
>>'Anything else on your mind?' (Try to change the topic)

>>2208642
>'Anything else on your mind?' (Try to change the topic)

>>2208646
>'Anything else on your mind?' (Try to change the topic)

File: Get In The Cockpit Friendo.jpg (10 KB, 400x225)

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‘Anything else on your mind?’

‘No, not really,’ he sighs, turning to the holo display in the middle of the room again, ‘just trying to see where I went wrong with the test.’

‘You passed,’ you reassure him, ‘as far we’re concerned, that’s enough.’

‘I know,’ he nods, briefly taking out his Comm Unit before sliding it back in, ‘I guess something just bugs me about it. Tell me that you don’t think if there’s an absolute solution to it all.’

‘We just talked about it.’

He wouldn’t be deterred, however.

‘Decades of nothing but bare passes and achievement—not outstanding achievement at all across the board,’ he starts again, ‘and you’re not the least bit curious if there’s any way to get full marks? At all?’

Maybe a small part of you did. You’d crashed and burned so badly Commander Wray had said naught a word as you’d left the facility. You’d made up for it in other examinations, of course, or you wouldn’t be part of the graduating class at all, but … you had to admit, you really didn’t want to try it again. The test wasn’t long or enduring—at least, not like the first year remedial classes on physical fitness; those sessions were nightmares. Beta biscuits and artificial aqua for nine months and a note whenever you went to the cafeteria for your intake was … well, a round with Commander Wray’s humiliation drills was preferable.

‘Not particularly, no,’ you shrug again, turning to the holo display then up to the screen. ‘I mean, we both passed right? No use trying to go back. We’re no closer to cracking that nut than anyone else has.’

‘Your enthusiasm is palpable, truly.’

‘Colony Fleet,’ you declare playfully, dipping into a bow. ‘Come on, man, you’re really going to obsess on what you could do to break a passing grade? Even Ryosuke—’

He raises eyebrow … and you quickly realize just who’d you brought up.

‘Okay, fine, bad comparison,’ you laugh slightly, ‘but look—you got the second highest mark … and this is the only test that you didn’t score in the top percentile. I’d call it a day and say that it’s a pre-Military career well done. At least you’re not in my boat.’

He smirks.

‘I thought you were happy just to serve?’

‘Look, let’s not stray,’ you get back on point, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible. ‘This is probably the last time we’re going to spend time together as friends. Unless you make something like Officer and give yourself a personal Warp Engine for recreational use, the next time we’ll probably meet is on the off-chance the bunch of us get called to give a graduate speech … if we’re still alive by then.’

He dips his head, looking thoughtful.

‘All right, you have a point, let me just—’

He pauses.

‘What?’

‘Hey, why don’t we run the simulation again? Together?’

>>2209002
>'No thanks. I'm not going to give Wray the satisfaction of a second failure.'
>'I know I'm going to regret this, but ... am I lead or are you?'
>'Seriously?'
>'Oh, now you ask me to be your wing? Where were you two months ago?'
>Write-In

>>2209002
>'I know I'm going to regret this, but ... am I lead or are you?'

>>2209003
Oh now you ask me to be your wingman, where we're you two months ago?

>>2209003
>>'I know I'm going to regret this, but ... am I lead or are you?'

>>2209002
>'Seriously?'
You- you're asking /me/? You remember how I did on this sim, right?

>>2209003
>'Seriously?'

>>2209003
>'I know I'm going to regret this, but ... am I lead or are you?'

I'll continue this in a bit, folks. I have a few errands to run and have been two-boxing all day.

>>2209003
>>'I know I'm going to regret this, but ... am I lead or are you?
Fuck yeah, mechs

>>2209003
>>'I know I'm going to regret this, but ... am I lead or are you?'

>>2209003

>>'I know I'm going to regret this, but ... am I lead or are you?'

RIP

>>2222446
Actually, I've been busy with FFX and Lightning Dodging. It is not going well.

>>2227249
>>‘I’ll take lead. If I’m going to crash and burn again, it’s going to be on my terms.’ (Commander)

>>2227249
>‘You’re the ace. I’m just going along for the ride.’ (Lancer)

>>2227249
>‘I’ll take lead. If I’m going to crash and burn again, it’s going to be on my terms.’ (Commander)

File: Sortie.jpg (676 KB, 2000x1425)

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You had to admit that seeing yourself in that pod and screwing up the last six minutes of the assignment wasn’t something that you weren’t quite looking forward to; especially not with Commander Wray’s glare lurking out in the corner somewhere. You had to get yourself fully out of the dorms by the evening, anyway, and wasting time with a simulation you probably wouldn’t care to run again wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined spending your last few hours as a student.

Then again, it’d been years since you sortied together with Emilio in a simulation.

‘I know that I’m going to regret this, but … am I lead or are you?’

Emilio pauses again, looking thoughtful.

‘I can be your Lancer no problem, if you want to take lead,’ he shrugs, making his way over to the console in the middle of the room, before turning around to face you, ‘either way, if you want to run, I’m okay with going either way.’

You adopt a thoughtful stance, staring at the screen. You’d done both before … but you’d both lead and served as the Lancer and had close to nothing in common with your mates in running the simulation. It wasn’t that you’d actively worked against each other, of course, as it was hardly the point of being sorted into groups, but you hadn’t exactly been able to build any sort of rapport with them aside from the three days leading up to the final exam. Emilio was an exemplary student, and even without the rest of his Trade House meddling in his affairs, but …

>‘I’ll take lead. If I’m going to crash and burn again, it’s going to be on my terms.’ (Commander)
>‘You’re the ace. I’m just going along for the ride.’ (Lancer)

>>2227260
>>‘I’ll take lead. If I’m going to crash and burn again, it’s going to be on my terms.’ (Commander)

>>2227260
>‘You’re the ace. I’m just going along for the ride.’ (Lancer)

>>2227260
>>‘I’ll take lead. If I’m going to crash and burn again, it’s going to be on my terms.’ (Commander)

>>2227260

>‘I’ll take lead. If I’m going to crash and burn again, it’s going to be on my terms.’ (Commander)

>>2227260
>>‘I’ll take lead. If I’m going to crash and burn again, it’s going to be on my terms.’ (Commander)

File: Hellion Op.jpg (535 KB, 1300x737)

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‘I’ll take lead,’ you declare in a tired, yet insistent tone. ‘If I’m going to crash and burn, it’s going to be on my terms.’

‘All right,’ he nods, setting up the console. ‘Let me just run the presets and we can see how far we can take this.’

He smacks his hands together as you make your way to one of the other pods and give it a loud pat to make sure Emilio knew which one you were going to take. Emilio throws your pod a brief glance before running his fingers on the keys again. The tell-tale beep on the side informs you that the unit was active and ready for a run, right as the holo display in the middle of the room begins reloading the scenario. Opening the pod, you slide right in and buckle yourself up. The lights were all on, and as with every single start-up, not quite calibrated from the load-out. Not that it was an obstacle for someone of your experience, of course—not for any fourth year student around these parts, anyway.

‘The scenario’s set up, I have it on free-run.’

You lean to your right and give a thumbs up before closing the hatch and finding yourself in darkness. A few seconds pass, and the familiar hum of the simulation running rolls right up, the central HUD showing the dagger and wings of The Aegis’s icon. You adjust the seat to bring yourself forward, feeling your way around the cockpit … which, if you were honest, smelled a little too sterile for comfort.

After the incident last year, you were supposed that it was inevitable.

Grumbling, you turn the comm and flick another switch, trying to ignore the worst of it. Even the Colony Fleets made use of less invasive scents for cleaning. One of the side monitors showed the status of your Mech—a Hellion-Class unit, bog-standard—and another showed you that Emilio had turned his pod on to an active state just as you had.

‘Running Comm check, Lancer, how’re things on your end?’

‘Working as intended, Commander, sequence initiation in approximately ninety seconds.’

‘Copy that, Lancer,’ you nod, getting into the roll and keying in your preferred systems … which, again, they really should have updated by now. ‘Initiating pre-drop protocols, check in.’

‘Protocols initiated, Commander,’ he responds. ‘Seventy seconds to sequence initiation.’

You run your last minute checks—more out of habit, but hey, getting into the role was part of it, anyway.

‘Confirmed, Lancer—primary checks confirmed, nothing off the board or out.’

You hit the secondary start-up.

REACTOR: ONLINE
SYSTEMS: ONLINE
WEAPONS: ACTIVE
STATUS: NOMINAL

‘Let’s do this.’

The red light turns to green.

SCENARIO: INITIATED

File: Gentleman.jpg (21 KB, 256x259)

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A familiar face flickers from the side: a man who looked like an overcooked patty with a toothbrush mustache with a bad haircut and a cap too small for his head, his shoulders covered in sand and grime.

‘Commander, operations are going smoothly,’ he declares, ‘the enemy hasn’t noticed us just yet—with some luck, they’ll just see this as another civilian depot for the next few hours. We’re cutting it a little close, but if things go as planned, there won’t be a problem getting The Asset and the rest of the crew off-world.’

‘Roger that, Supervisor,’ you respond to the VI, ‘running standard patrol now.’

‘Acknowledged, sir.’

You pan the camera over to your Lancer’s—to Emilio’s—own Hellion Class, covered in dust and looking like its seen better days. You have no doubt that yours probably did, either—after all, this was meant to open up with a stranded bunker scenario; it wouldn’t make sense for anything here to be crisp and clean. You look down to see the tents and the armaments being shuffled away to the makeshift airfield, where the ships were being prepped for launch. Even outside the scenario, there was most definitely a sense of urgency about the characters shuffling boxes and parts away to the ship—where the Warp Engine laid, thus far unfixed, as per the parameters—while the valley below showcased a city that was just as battered, but not quite ruined. You had to appreciate the detail, really, zooming in and seeing some children and their parents playing on the roof above the ruins; supply trucks kicking up dust and sand as they rolled into town …

‘Should be just about … now.’

The warning blares.

WARNING: ARMADA SIGNATURE IN ORBIT PROXIMITY

‘Commander, they’re on to us!’

‘You know, I think they cut corners with the actors’ budget,’ Emilio cuts in over the Comm, causing you to smile.

‘Should be a scouting party coming down first, I think,’ you mumble to yourself, switching your RADAR from ground level to drop interception. ‘We’re going to have to handle that … which ones did you get?’

‘Commander,’ the toothbrush-mustached gentleman cuts in again, ‘the sensors detect five separate launches … one of them is honed right in on our present location. It’s going to be close if we’re going in a rush, but you’re going to have to draw them away or hold them back when they break atmosphere.’

‘Copy that, Supervisor. Priorities and objectives compiled.’

‘You must keep them from acquiring The Asset, sir! Whatever the co—’

The tell-tale boom above has you almost smirking as you shift the Mech into gear, creasing fingers around the rifle.

‘Lancer, do we have a read on the Squad that just dropped?’

‘Two units, standard scouting party, Commander,’ Emilio announces, ‘how do you want to take this?’

>Write-In

>>2227674
Just to clear up what the scenario is:

>You're on top of a mesa overlooking a dusty plain
>There is a city in the middle, the drop is approximately 4 miles outside the city. It's seen better days.
>The camp is preparing a Warp Engine double-time for escape/launch
>The main objective is to defend the Warp Engine repairs, which, according to the test, is of a random duration but, according to Commander Wray, "never unreasonable".
>No big trees, just a dust bowl.

>>2227712
So are our mechs lights or heavies? Can they shoot far, or do they have to get up close?

>>2227731
They're Not-Zakus, essentially. Light on armaments because of the Scenario. You'll get a better feel for them in the battle, which I will take to explain the mechanics.

>>2227759
Any place to set up an ambush, or would moving out in any way let the enemy scouts see us?

>>2227674
So from what I understand, this scenario is nigh impossible to complete beyond a bare pass with conventional tactics, and the resources we have.

Which means we'll probably have to employ unconventional tactics, and resources we don't have.

Does the city have any defensive units of its own?

How utterly impossible would it be to capture enemy mechs intact, or disable them in such a state that they can be easily repaired?

What actually /is/ the Asset?

>>2227759
so a beam rifle and melee weapon?

>>2227795
Open clear field, think Death Valley with the ruins of a city that's still inhabited in the middle.

>>2227822
City's just the ruins and maybe a populace of a few thousand taking refuge.

>>2227847
Standard Zaku kinetic/reflex weaponry.

>>2228459
Do we have the Zaku jet packs? Can we activate them and hop on over to the enemy?

>>2199075
Well here is the situation explained some. You use some battletech pictures, how similar is it?

>>2228564
No, standard ground unit. Jet packs are non-existent and while jump jets are there, anything to sustain flight that isn't an external unit is not available to you. You're on Terra Firma and gravity is a standard 0.96-1.15 with no abnormalities.

>>2228683
The picture is just there to convey the setting has Real Robots.

>>2227674
Take up defensive positions around the warp drive. Keep watch for the enemy.
That's all I got with the information we have.

Given that they're only sending scouting parties, they're unlikely to know the exact nature of our forces. If their forces severely outnumber us to the extent that we're desperately trying to buy just five minutes for an extraction, it's probable that the city will be wiped out even if we escape should the enemy identify them as sympathizers.

So, the only way to protect the city is either to wipe out the enemy in its entirety and continue to hold the planet, or make the enemy believe that the city has nothing to do with us - or is even opposed to us - before we leave.

Since our cover will be blown the moment we engage on this terrain, what if we were to instead allow ourselves to be seen retreating, and feint in a direction away from the ruins, as though retreating to some as-yet-unknown installation?

>>2228860
It seems all you have to do is protect the warp drive. The city is apparently a bonus score. Could be an interesting option and less generic than my plan.

>>2228887
Yeah, but our goal here isn't to get the bare pass; that's been done and dusted many times before us.

>‘Decades of nothing but bare passes and achievement—not outstanding achievement at all across the board,’ he starts again, ‘and you’re not the least bit curious if there’s any way to get full marks? At all?’

We're doing this to see if we can break the scenario.

>>2228887
our partner wants to see what's preventing people from getting above the average test score, im curious as to what else could be done to get a better score

>>2228924
>>2228931
I thought it was like that one in Ot Star trek, the Toshii maru?
>>2228860
I will support this.

Actually, before we make any hard decisions, could we get a rough map or a lay of the land so we know what defining features there are of the area around us?

Also, could we explicitly define what our objectives and assets are?

As far as I can tell, we have to primarily defend a Warp Engine (Stationary? Mech-portable? Man-portable? Is it currently at our location in the middle of nowhere in this field, or at an installation somewhere else? It's not actually in the city, right?) for about five minutes until an Asset (A spook? A mech pilot? Some other combat-fit personnel? How are the equipped? Can we give them orders?) activates and uses it to extract themselves (and us?) from the planet.

Meanwhile, we will receive a distress call from a city built from a bunch of ruins (How does this affect terrain for the purposes of mech-scale engagments? Human-scale engagements?) which will be under attack by the same enemy (We've run this sim before, we should know the extent of their forces.) making planetfall against us. (Is this city already allied to us, or are they neutral up until they come under attack?) Our secondary objective is to protect this city (For the five minute duration until they can also evacuate? In such a way that they're safe even past our departure?) and prevent it from being destroyed (or is partial or full destruction of the city permitted as long as the populace is safe?).

>>2229102
You're at a significant vantage point. The whole area is plain and clear, no obstacles but no cover either. Think flat ground with raised mesas in the background. So far, nothing else. The Asset is unknown, only that you are under an order to prioritize it, as per the test's guidelines. Also, the "assumption" is that protecting the city seems to give a huge bonus from the previous test-takers, but nothing is concrete.

I may have miscommunicated the city: it's not ruins. It's just that it's supposed to look like its seen its fair share of conflict. There are still civvies inside, but close to nothing around. The forces are endless and with every passing moment, it builds up and up.

>>2227674
>>2229502
Take up defensive positions around the warp drive. Keep watch for the enemy.
That's all I got with the information we have.

>>2229502
Is the Warp Drive in an area that is presumably defensible and the enemy are going to come from predictable directions? If we go off to take out the scouts, would we have time to come back or can the enemy attack from an entirely different direction?

>>2229672
It's on the mesa, like I said. You're overlooking a drop from a first wave of attacking. You are within a camp scheduling itself for repairs that now has to kick things in overdrive with the arrival of enemy forces. Your objective is still to hold back the enemy. That's for the passing mark.

Is the enemy trying to destroy the asset, or capture it? What if the trick to the scenario is that we have to be willing to destroy it ourselves to prevent it falling into enemy hands.

Just spitballing off-the-wall strategy here, we're already in the sim so it's not like we can pull the classic Kirk "just hack the computer lmao" kobayashi maru shit.